Libra
by Digital Phoenix
Summary: [ZexionLarxene] The scale tips in favour of the strongest.


A/N. Due to lack of significant reviews (or no reviews at all) on my other story, I'm writing another one. Don't ask. Oh, and warning. Contains a dark lemon. Don't like don't read. Written for another challenge, give your opinions.

Libra

Everyone is equal.

Larxene considers this, as she allows Zexion to push her onto the steel chair.

The chair creaks as it settles into position. The air is thick with the scent of blood. The laboratory.

"Everyone is equal. Nobodies are but the same." He hisses in her ear as gloved fingers trace a line down her jaw. "Princesses must become slaves." He continues, fixing her with his single glaring eye. The cold blue of it contrasted greatly with the dark of the room. Shadow seeps from his fingertips. She shudders, but nothing more. She had tortured him enough; it was his turn now.

"And slaves will be princesses. A special moment, before they..._die_."

He whispers the last word into her ear like a syrupy song. He brings the rope, winding them around her. But she struggles not. Nor does she summon a bolt of lightning to snap the rope. Her eyes glint with white electricity, but then it fades. She accepts this. She likes it. His lips curl in that familiar, demented smirk. His lilac locks seem to bloom in the shadow, as he carefully slips off his gloves and places it on the table beside him. "You are my illusion." He breathes. She stares at him as his features shift. She recognizes Marluxia.

"You're worthless. Insignificant."

Larxene growls as she hears that familiar voice pour from his mouth. But she knows that it isn't really Marluxia. The illusion shifts back and the schemer grins at her. "How does it feel?" He says, running a pale hand down her neck, where it touches the hood of her black coat. The silver ornaments on it clink together softly. Her nonexistent heart misses a pretense beat. She hisses a spiteful word as he ignores her, reaching behind him to a shiny silver table, where he picks up a syringe. She had seen him with it before this, discussing its contents with Vexen. She knows what he is about to do.

The needle enters her flesh, but there is no reaction on her features. Just the cold, cold ice. Pain is an illusion. Just like him now. She allows him to do this, only because she does the same to him. She does the same to anyone she pleased. Zexion continues to leer at her as he supresses the plunger, and she feels a cold sting as the luminous green liquid flows into her veins. A tiny trickle of crimson emerges from the wound and runs down her ivory skin. His other hand caresses her sun-kissed locks, and his lips place a tender kiss on her forehead.

She knows he loves her. Just in a different way.

Then the numbness starts as he withdraws the syringe from her skin. It starts from the site of the injection, working its way up her body, down her legs, into her feet. She tries to shift, but is unable to move. The nymph returns Zexion's smile before the numbness takes over. The sensation stops. She wants to speak, but her mouth won't move. She is silenced. She lies still like a stone angel on the grave. Her eyes blink repeatedly. The only thing she can do. Zexion walks slowly towards her, and picks one of her kunais from the floor. With a swift movement, he slices through the rope. Lifting her still form from the chair, he places her on the ground and drops the kunai. She cannot feel the dust, but she sees it fly around her.

Zexion bends over her, places both hands on her shoulders affectionately.

He forces his hands down with strength no one knew he posessed, and the black material begins to tear. The ripping stops as he flings away the remnants of her coat. He plants another kiss on her cheek as her sapphire eyes attempt to focus on his face.

"All nobodies are equal, Larxene."

Zexion repeats, lowering his mouth to her shoulder. She cannot reply. She starts to feel the pain; the numbness wearing off as he bites down. She knows he's doing it out of love. She sees the blood stain her flawless skin. The crimson flows like a tiny creek down, until it slips between her thighs and onto the carpet. He moves his lips to the blood, and she feels his tongue against her flesh as he tastes the scarlet. She tries to move now. She moves. With a swift push, she changes positions. She straddles him, caressing his cheek with slender fingers. She retrieves her kunai.

"All nobodies are indeed equal, Zexion. But I'm tipping the scale."

He smiles again as the kunai digs into his neck, just inches away from the main vessel. It isn't a deep cut, but it isn't a shallow one either. The liquid heats up his icy skin like an unquenchable fire. She drinks of the crimson like a hungry creature. He just smiles.

Zexion's eye seems to glint as dark mist blinds her. Larxene lets out a short scream of surprise as he fades, and reappears behind her, pinning her to the ground, her back between his knees. She lies on her front, trapped. "Surprise." He whispers.

"You don't surprise me."

Larxene replies, arching her back and throwing him off. The sharp edge of the metal table gashes a wound through his arm as he winces and grabs it. A flap of black material dangles from his right sleeve. But yet his face shows remnants of that twisted smile. She lunges at him, her skin bare, and pries off his coat. It crumples to the ground at his feet. She kicks it away, and holds the kunai to his throat.

"Now, where were we?"

She slides the tiny knife downward, and it creates a tiny slit in his chest. She follows the blade with the light touch of her finger. She digs deeper. He lets out a tiny cry, but that's how it was. He was trying to resist. He was right. Slaves did become princesses. But she was originally a princess. Blood pools in the carpet, dampening it. She smiles again as she sees his lilac hair streaked with red. She bends lower and kisses those tempting lips, the searing sensation but an additional treasure. His visible eye flutters shut as she presses on. She breaks the kiss, drawing a deep breath as she reaches toward the sweat-matted curtain of hair that hangs over his other eye. His left hand grabs her wrist before she can draw it aside.

"Don't even consider it."

His voice threatens.

There is a moment of stagnant silence, and then he reaches for the zip of his black trousers, the only garment left on his body. He pulls it down and pins her against the wall. Kissing her from her neck to her shoulder, she leans down and sinks her teeth into the exposed flesh of his neck like a rabid animal. He pulls back at the pain, his eye glaring at her with terrifying intensity. She laps the blood like a dog. He moans into her skin.

"You're innocent."

He offers.

"So what if I am, Zexion?"

Larxene snaps back, running her tongue along the shell of his ear.

"I'm surprised. I thought you were the princess of the Organization. With twelve males, you _surely_ must've been used."

"I act."

She growls before he smirks and draws his teeth along the tender area of her chest. She whimpers and sinks her hands into his hair, pulling him closer. The hand that holds the kunai draws lines into his back. His teeth clench around her breast, and she lets out a low groan. The hand drops the kunai and caresses the open wounds, and he enjoys the stinging sensation. They were in a battle now. Both were equal. The scale had tipped again. "Enough of this." Zexion hisses, before he drives himself into her with such force that her head slams against the wall behind her. Another trickle of blood runs down the side of her forehead. But she is strong, and he knows it.

"Do you not feel the pain, Larxene?"

He muses harshly. Her eyes are closed and her teeth have sunk into her bottom lip. He knows she feels it. But did he care? Not one bit. Drawing himself slightly outward, he enters again, and this time a strangled cry tears from her throat. Her eyes flutter open and she wraps her arms around his neck. A bolt of electricity runs through him as he grits his teeth, and sees her smirk. "You want to play?" He mouths openly as the sensation fades. Finally, she abandons her thoughts as he digs his fingers into her waist. The edge was fast approaching, and they would both fall over it. It was all precarious. She came first, with naught but a heavy breath, and then he followed.

"The scale has tipped permanently, Zexion."

She says, breaths ragged against the cold backdrop.

"Not yet, Larxene."

His eyes glint darkly.

"Not yet."


End file.
